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A classical education, obviously, came with the package in the kind of private schools Bruce Wayne attended.
Besides, even without it, he has always been fascinated by the Greek mythology. For the sheer honesty of it.
The gods are not on any pedestal. They are petty, brutal, uncaring. If they help humans, it is either on a whim or because they want something from them.
They might reward a human one day, destroy him the next, just as the humour takes them.
There is no pious pretence of an all-powerful, all-good being working selflessly for the greater good behind the scenes, just so far out of focus that mere humans can't even begin to comprehend it, but all the same demanding worship.
Oh, not because he is petty, he is the All-Good, but because…Because you have to, or you’ll burn forever, and just shut up and stop asking questions!
Whoever was responsible for the creation of the Greek Pantheon were, at the very least, not hypocrites.
Zeus is petty, lewd, snatching up whatever pretty face he finds regardless what anyone else feels, jealous, abusing his position? Well, duh, he is the god of kingship, that is what kings do.
Artemis’ wrath is brutal, swift, with no room for mercy? She’s the goddess of the nature, what else do you expect from nature?
Aphrodite is jealous, insecure, haughty, ruthless? She’s the goddess of love and beauty, that is what something as volatile as love turns people into.
Yes, the Greek mythology is honest. Bruce appreciates that. He had appreciated that even before gods descended on the world.
Turns out, most people don’t appreciate the honesty of Greek mythology.
They want to believe that the gods are good. That the gods care.
They watch someone descend from the skies and call him Superman.
They watch him tear apart giant robots with his bare hands and the next moment cluster around him for autographs.
They want to believe the fairy tales. Not the real ones, not the old ones. Not the ones that show the fae, the gods, as they are.
They want everything pretty, wrapped up as sweet as a Disney movie.
And that is what he gives them. Oh, he is careful. So very careful. With every word, every smile, putting them at their ease.
The god who is their guardian, their defender. Everyone’s favourite big brother. He has their worship.
For now.
Maybe they need those comforting lies. Maybe they cannot bear the terror of understanding what he can do, understanding what it means.
Bruce cannot afford to fool himself. Batman cannot afford to fool himself. He knows what gods do to mortals. Even the worshipful ones. He knows how gods indulge their whims.
That was bad enough.
Then, he finds out about Clark Kent.
The god’s human avatar, his mask.
In the Greek myths, gods descend from Olympus masked in human forms. They walk among humans, unknown. They walk to judge, to reward, to far more often, punish.
Any human who crosses their path and fails to measure up – whether out of genuine ill will, out of simple pettiness, or simply because they were having a bad day and were not up to dealing with uninvited guests – fall, fall hard.
“This can’t go on” Bruce looks through the hacked security cam feed and sees Clark Kent at his desk. “This… This is not going to end well. For anyone.”
Alfred looks over his shoulder. Bruce is not sure who the look of disapproval is directed at, Superman or Batman. “What do you intend to do about it then, Master Bruce?”
Bruce sighs. “What I always do, Alfred. Whatever I can.”
………………………………………….
Bruce spends the next few days collecting information on Clark Kent.
Turned up at Daily Planet about the same time as Superman began his public appearances.
Journalism degree from Metropolis University.
Not difficult to fake.
An institution high profile enough to grant the degree high value, but not old enough to be bound by Ivy League traditions, fraternities, registers. Enough of a student body that it will be of no surprise one journalism major is not all that well remembered.
Birth certificate and high school records from a small, out of the way Mid-Western town.
Smallville, Kansas.
Maybe that was a mistake – no doubt the alien intended on going as low profile as possible, but the problem with small towns is that everyone knows everyone.
A little more investigation proves Clark Kent did exist, at some point. Personal facts, social media, things that go far back enough to be either major conspiracy level profile creation or genuine.
Bruce is angling towards the latter. From all he has seen, Superman plays the solo game. Even he, alone, could not have created this diverse trail of crumbs.
So. One Clark Kent once existed. Current situation unknown.
Bruce sets up a bot to go through the morgue files and police reports. No corpses that match the exact description. But then again, it may not be necessary to go that far.
How old would Clark Kent be? Early twenties, twenty-five at most.
From what is seen of his online activities, and the few stories he has gotten published, he’s idealistic, somewhat naïve, a small-town kid with a rich vocabulary and even richer imagination.
It wouldn’t have taken Superman much effort to persuade him into being a collaborator of sorts, vanish for a while as the alien takes on his identity.
Hell, Kent probably felt flattered at being an official ‘sidekick’ or whatever he fancied himself as.
As for how long said takeover would last… Bruce is not sure he wants to speculate. Much. Those who walk with gods rarely fare well.
He will try to locate the original Clark Kent (assuming he is still alive), but right now the focus is to be on Superman.
Bruce spends the majority of his non-patrol time keeping track of the alien. The Daily Planet security system is ridiculously easy to piggyback on.
What Bruce sees only increases his alarm further.
Clark Kent is a junior reporter, and is treated with all the indignities that come with the position.
The adopted persona is shy, nerdy, deliberately dressed to be unattractive, negligible. Exactly the kind of persona that attracts bullies and bad-tempered superiors who want to vent.
“They always go dressed like that” Bruce murmurs.
“Pardon, Master Bruce?”
“Never mind, Alfred”
The gods when they walk the earth rarely go forth in the glory of their celestial form. They wear forms that are weak, ugly, vulnerable. Forms that will attract derision and negligence.
Perhaps they tell themselves, as some of their worshippers will, that it is a sign of humility.
More likely, it is deliberate, a way of making themselves a target. The hunter and the bait in one.
They walk the earth to judge, and it is not satisfying enough to reward. They must punish. So they make sure they have an excuse to.
“You are buying the Daily Planet?”
Bruce shrugs, ignoring Alfred’s raised eyebrow “It is a sound investment. You know Lucius has been talking about making headway into the media-“
“And may I assume this investment is all the more sound due to the presence of-“
“I will be careful, Alfred.”
“I very much doubt both of us use the same definition for that word, Master Bruce.”
……………………………….
Bruce makes sure he is completely Brucie on the day he turns up at Daily Planet for the first time. He has, of course, already completed detailed dossiers on all employees.
The editor, Perry White, pointedly does not come out to meet and greet him, instead sending Catherine “Cat” Grant – Brucie has had more than enough brush ups with that particular lady. He wastes no time getting away.
Perry White’s disapproval is as expected. He has no time to spare for the frivolous trust fund baby owner who has turned up to play with his new toy.
The guy is the stereotypical newspaperman, gruff and dedicated, absolutely fearless.
The only editor in Metropolis who had dared to run genuine articles on Lex Luthor’s activities before Superman showed up.
A good man, and a principled one. But not…exactly the most even-tempered guy you could ask for.
Already Bruce has heard him threaten to dismember the red-haired photographer. Twice.
Of course, Bruce knows that Perry White is a good man – the kind of boss who will bend over backwards for any of his people if they are actually in trouble.
But that doesn’t mean they have safety from his frequent and extremely picturesque rants. Kent certainly will not.
Especially given his…other…activities will no doubt have him missing deadlines and meetings more often than should be allowed for a junior reporter.
Others…
Lois Lane.
Superman seems obviously attracted to her. She was the one he gave that first tell-all interview to. He has also rescued her multiple times. Clearly some connection there.
In the Clark Kent guise, Superman makes absolutely no effort to hide his attraction to her.
Oh, nothing too crude or obtrusive. That is not Superman’s style.
If Bruce didn’t know what Clark Kent truly was, he would have found the reactions more adorable than anything else, in a lovesick puppy way. Lane likely thinks the same, going by her responses.
Why, though? The disguise?
If Superman wanted her, surely it would be far easier to approach her as himself. Though, of course, gods and fae do this sometimes.
Go in disguise, stage what they claim to be some test for humility or kindness or what not.
Unsurprisingly, Lane is clearly not interested in the Clark Kent persona, but is in the process of letting him down easy.
Not alarmed or disturbed, more amused than anything else. Could be bad news for her if and when Superman takes offense.
But surely it should be enough to soothe his ego that she finds his real version fascinating?
But… Bruce is not entirely sure there, either.
Lois Lane, from what he has managed to glean from his observations, has never had a real romantic relationship as an adult.
Brief dates, the usual amount of flirting that is expected during parties or events. But nothing that indicates she is interested in a relationship with anyone.
Lesbian deep in the closet? Doesn’t fit the character profile – will likely be out and proud.
Asexual? More plausible. Which means she could be in serious peril when Superman finds himself rejected in both personas.
Normal human males tend to have ego issues when a good-looking woman declares herself completely uninterested. How is a god going to react?
Bruce decides he will have to arrange protection. Soon.
Jimmy Olsen.
The young photographer who is apparently obsessed with Superman. Trying to play Robin to him.
Superman seems more or less fond of the guy, and extremely protective. Not getting any romantic attraction vibes, from the interactions Bruce has observed.
Superman seems to treat Olsen like a hyperactive kid brother. And Olsen has apparently decided it is okay to get as familiar as that treatment seemed to permit.
Yeah, some of the best Superman photos come from the guy, but so does some of the most memed Superman photos. Most recently the one with Superman with his hair standing up in spikes after a run-in with Livewire.
Yeah, Superman’s reaction to that picture getting taken was only an exasperated “Jim…” but still.
It never goes well to be too familiar with gods. Even when they let you walk beside them.
There will always be that one line you are not meant to cross, and you will never know where that line is till too late.
And of course, Olsen treats Clark Kent with far more familiarity. Teasing him, poking at his frankly ridiculous outfits…
Too close. Too familiar. One day he is going to push too far.
Steve Lombard immediately makes Bruce wince.
At least Lane and Olsen are genuinely affectionate and more or less decent towards Clark Kent. They may think he is the resident weirdo, but their teasing never crosses over into bullying.
Lombard, on the other hand… Classic wannabe cowboy ‘alpha male’. Exactly the type of character who, in the myths, ends up the first recipient of spectacular divine retribution.
Bruce spends only a couple of minutes in his company, but is already tempted to deal out some retribution all on his own.
And the fool has immediately focused on Clark Kent as the easiest target. No wonder, since the whole Kent persona is essentially a giant target painted on.
Steve Lombard, Bruce decides after watching one interaction between him and Clark Kent, is going to die. Probably very nastily.
And not necessarily by Superman’s hand, he amends that thought process, as he sees Lombard shift his attention to Cat Grant. He can almost literally see Cat’s claws come out.
……………………………………….
All in all, Bruce comes away from his first Brucie visit to the Daily Planet office with the impression that he has just left a ticking time bomb of spectacular proportions.
“Once again, Master Bruce” Alfred’s exasperation is practically radiating off him “What do you intend to do about the situation?”
“I’m… not entirely sure”
Removing Superman from the playacting is of course the most prudent scenario. No doubt the Kryptonian thinks he is getting a clearer picture of humans or whatever by this charade. But it has to be stopped.
Let him observe humans as himself. Nothing against that. At least, nothing that can be done without crossing too many lines, even for Batman.
This entire…walking unseen scenario is ethically dubious on several levels.
He could talk to Superman about that. Or the JLA in general. Bring up the ethical implications in the whole masquerade.
But no. Batman is a valued member of the JLA, but if it comes to a confrontation between him and Superman, he knows only too well which way the votes would go.
Especially since Superman would no doubt be able to come up with a perfectly valid excuse for the entire thing.
Involving JLA will not be helpful – not without actual proof of the risk involved.
Bruce frowns.
Alfred groans. “I know that expression too well. Master Bruce…”
“I have to demonstrate why this is too risky.”
The thing is, he can believe Superman, more or less means well. He doesn’t really give credence to Luthor’s alien takeover theory.
This whole Clark Kent charade is most probably a well-meaning stunt, gaining perspective.
If it is credibly demonstrated that it is too dangerous, Superman could be persuaded to back off. Or at the very least the League could be persuaded to get him to back off.
One slip-up will likely be enough proof. Only, one slip-up could be enough to start a cascade of reactions. If it involves a civilian getting hurt.
However, if the target that invites the slip-up is one of their own, someone who will get through and hush up the event… Bruce nods.
Alright.
Brucie Wayne is going to be taking far more of an interest than planned in the daily running of his newest investment.
…………………………………….
Bruce doesn’t particularly bother with a cover story for his interest.
One of the advantages of having Brucie as his cover – the eccentric billionaire is known for completely non sequitur behaviour. A sudden interest – especially in a concern that employs so many attractive people – is not out of character.
Though he seems to be giving the unfortunate Perry White more grey hairs than his entire staff combined.
“If the editor was someone other than Perry White, this would have been considerably easier” Bruce admitted to Alfred.
“You mean you could simply have gotten the young man fired, Master Bruce?” The butler makes no effort to disguise what he feels about the situation.
Bruce chooses not to respond to the tone. “White will not allow me much say in the running of the newspaper. Even after I implied I might think of replacing him with a more compliant-“
“Master Bruce!”
“No, don’t worry, I won’t actually do that. Perry White is a damn good editor, and Daily Planet is a damn good paper. I don’t want to actually damage either.”
“You just want to dismantle the ‘Clark Kent’ masquerade, as you call it.”
“You and I both know it is necessary, Alfred.”
“I know that you think you know.”
What Bruce does on an everyday basis is not particularly disruptive, or even noticeable in many ways.
Just casual comments. The thoughtless comments that are perfectly in character for an airheaded billionaire who has never had to face real consequences for anything that comes out of his mouth.
Minor insults. Jokes. Nothing that, by itself, amounts to much.
But the constancy? Bruce makes no pretence that Clark Kent is not the target.
He tried the ‘flirt with Lane to make Superman jealous’ tactic for the first couple of days, but had to stop once it became clear Lane will kill him before Superman has a chance if he kept it up.
But that doesn’t stop him from interrupting any moment of intimacy – romantic or not – that ‘Kent’ has with Lane.
Or any conversation with Jimmy Olsen.
Bruce even offered the kid a job at the Wayne Industries PR wing to see Superman’s reaction at having his sidekick poached.
That didn’t work since Olsen immediately refused on no uncertain terms. Something about doing real journalism.
If Bruce was Brucie Wayne, he’d have been very offended. As it is, he just ruffled Olsen’s hair and laughed it off.
Brucie inserts himself in other ways as well.
‘Accidentally’ breaks a pretty paperweight – clearly some souvenir – on ‘Kent’s’ desk, tossing a few notes over casually to pay for the damage as if he has no idea the casual arrogance makes it worse.
Interrupts ‘Kent’ on his way to an important conference and stays glued to his side chatting – aka, needling – till he is half minute away from missing it altogether.
Arranging an interview with ‘Kent’ and cancelling it after making Kent wait in the lobby for an hour and a half.
Vetoing – well, trying to veto, because, well, Perry White – an article ‘Kent’ has been working on for the past couple of weeks.
Basically, being obnoxious in so many ways that even a perfectly normal human would find it hard to resist throwing a punch.
He’s keeping at it so hard that even Steve Lombard is feeling sorry for ‘Kent’ (if only they knew what he is…).
Bruce himself would have felt sorry for ‘Kent’ if he didn’t know the persona is just a shell. It isn’t like this can actually hurt or affect Superman.
Of course, Batman meets Superman often enough in the Watchtower. He is clearly not affected by the ‘harassment’ his avatar receives. Just as ‘Superman’ as ever.
And ‘Kent’ has not reacted in any fashion. Not even on the occasions he could with no chance of it being traced back to him.
Bruce is starting to consider the possibility the masquerade may not matter all that much.
After all, if Superman has this much self-control, maybe it might be okay to let him keep on the Clark Kent charade for a bit.
It can’t go on long, before the Kryptonian tires of it.
…………………………………….
It takes a week before Bruce’s experiment bears fruit.
Of course, he has been waiting for it, but still it is a slight jolt. He was almost at the point of convincing himself that Superman is as unreachable to human emotions as he seems to be.
Of course, the reaction, when it comes, is nothing as spectacular as Bruce half expects.
It starts as simple as a chair tipping out just as Bruce goes to sit on it, spilling the billionaire to the floor. (Of course, he could easily have kept from falling, but Brucie Wayne can’t).
He gets to his feet, whining in full Brucie mode and clinging around ‘Kent’s’ neck as he brushes himself off.
His first assumption is that his latest comment – something about Kent’s new article being the kind of feel good thing more suited to a high school paper than real news – finally incensed Superman enough to use heat vision, but with enough restraint to direct it at the leg of the chair than directly at the annoying human.
But, as his quick glance confirms, the chair isn’t burned at all. It’s undamaged.
Hmm. Some kind of telekinesis, then?
Superman has powers of tactile telekinesis, that is obvious given the way he can move gigantic objects with no real leverage, perhaps it extends to non-tactile forms as well? Bruce keeps that question for further deliberation.
The next incident could possibly be a coincidence, Bruce is ready to accept that much.
Olsen, taking Perry White’s coffee to him, trips just as he is passing by Bruce (who is hanging over Kent’s shoulder chewing a doughnut and getting crumbs all over the notes on the desk) and spills the hot coffee on his feet.
The shoes make sure Bruce isn’t actually burned, but they and his pant leg is beyond salvage.
Olsen apologizes rapidly and incoherently, and in trying to repair the damage with hastily grabbed tissue paper makes it worse.
Try as he might, Bruce can’t really find a way Superman could have done that. Maybe telekinesis again?
Well. He is willing to grant it might be coincidence. Bruce is not paranoid, after all (a voice that sounds too much like Dick goes into hysterical laughter in the back of his mind)
The culminating even comes when Bruce wanders down from the building – he needs to go change into new pants and shoes anyway – and opens the car door.
And finds himself glitterbombed.
…………………………………..
“I don’t even know how he managed that.”
Alfred hums, not bothering to answer verbally. His raised eyebrows, as he helps Bruce get at least part of the glitter out of his hair, expresses his sentiments perfectly.
“I mean, yeah, it’s not the Batmobile, it doesn’t have quite all that many safety set-ups, but it is still mostly burglar proof…”
“I am sure Superman can find multiple ways to get into a locked car if he wishes to, Master Bruce” Alfred’s tone is dry enough to give Sahara desert dehydration.
“There are no signs of…well, melting or super strength or anything like that. More like someone just picked the locks.”
“Which, given the fact you were not, as you said, using the ‘batmobile’, is far from impossible.”
Difficult, sure, but not impossible.
“I assume you have already managed to obtain the recordings from the parking lot cameras?”
“Yeah, but they’re…well, pretty much low quality. As in, too grainy to get anything useful from.”
“Unless you put it through your software.”
Bruce smirks “Yeah, unless.”
To be fair, the quality – or lack thereof – of the security cameras has proved an advantage in at least one way. Knowing the situation, Superman would have made no effort to evade them, believing them to be useless for any surveillance purpose.
He will check those – along with the other cameras installed around the daily planet offices – after he has gotten enough of this damned glitter out of his hair. No way he is going to risk contaminating the Batcomputer with it.
……………………………..
“What.”
Bruce replays the videos. Again. And again. And again.
Alfred, watching over his shoulder, sighs theatrically. “I think the situation is clear by now, Master Bruce.”
On screen, Steve Lombard strolls by while Bruce Wayne is about to sit down, and casually kicks the chair out from under him.
Jimmy Olsen pauses to check the temperature of the coffee, stops and takes a deep breath as if steeling himself, before walking over for the ‘accidental’ coffee spill.
Lois Lane crouches near his car, expertly picking the lock and deploying the glitterbombs, while Cat Grant keeps watch.
“What.” Bruce repeats again.
Alfred looks like he’s sending up a prayer for patience to the god of British butlers. "I am not the detective here, Master Bruce, but may I state my conclusion that this is the natural consequence of picking on a more or less well liked or at least tolerated ‘weird kid’ of an office by an outsider?”
“You mean…”
“I mean, it appears that Daily Planet has declared war on you, Master Bruce.”
“Steve Lombard. Freaking Steve Lombard tipped my chair.”
“It seems that, uncouth though the man is, he is still bound by some kind of loyalty to his colleagues.”
No one messes with my favourite chew toy but me. Hypocritical heart-warming. Why is he not surprised.
Bruce sighs. “So. It appears that I’ll have to consider this particular mission a failure.”
“I wouldn’t be quite so quick to dismiss it, Master Bruce.”
“Oh?”
“You have learned at least one very valuable fact about Superman.”
“Which is?”
“That despite his frankly atrocious fashion choices, he is the kind of colleague an entire office-full of ambitious employees will band against their employer to protect.”
Bruce stifles a growl, knowing he can’t afford to appear any more juvenile than he already did.